


Angles of Incidence

by suchanadorer



Series: Indistinguishable From Magic [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Angle of incidence is a measure of deviation of something from "straight on".</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean comes to Sam with some concerns regarding their new relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angles of Incidence

Downtime at the bunker is a welcome respite for all four of them. They’ve been back for a couple of days, just long enough to start to relax and remember what home feels like, when there is a knock on Sam’s door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, not even bothering to look up from the laptop screen.

The door swings open slowly to reveal Dean dressed in jeans and a faded blue-grey henley. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and leans against the door frame, then glances back over his shoulder into the hallway. He steps in and closes the door, slouching back against it when it clicks shut. Moments later he’s moving again, rifling through the pile of newspaper clippings on Sam’s desk. He hums through the better part of the main riff for Devil’s Dance before squeezing his eyes shut and switching to Welcome Home Sanitarium.

Sam watches the display with quiet amusement. He shifts on the bed, closing his laptop and setting it on the bedside table. Dean’s fingers twitch at his sides and he gnaws at his lower lip, but when he sees Sam’s attention on him he settles, half-sitting on the edge of the desk.

“So, umm,” Dean starts, his eyes moving over the bare walls and spartan decorations in the room. “Where’s Lucifer?”

“Up in the woods with Cas,” Sam answers. “They’re looking for a good spot for Lucifer to plan a garden in the spring.”

Dean gives an impressed nod, but doesn’t look satisfied. 

The last time Dean started a conversation by asking about Lucifer, it was because they were going to kill him. This isn’t what he came to talk about, but Sam has nothing planned for today, so he settles back against the pillows and waits for Dean to work through whatever it is he has piled on top of whatever brought him to Sam’s room.

“A garden, huh? Wow.” There’s honest interest in Dean’s voice, and it warms something inside Sam to hear it. He and Lucifer of them are still not friends, but they tolerate each other more with every passing day. “That’ll be good for him, probably. I guess.”

He plucks at the clippings again, sniffing when he finds one with a couple stories circled in red pen. He stacks them neatly, shifting his weight and fidgeting, all nervous energy. He usually settles into life at the bunker even faster than Sam, so this departure from routine has Sam curious, but not yet anxious.

“You coming to movie night? You and Lucifer?”

Sam nods, giving Dean a quick grin. “Of course, man. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Castiel had begun buying movies at gas stations whenever they stopped, convinced that it would help fill in the gaps in his, and even Lucifer’s knowledge of human nature. It’s become a staple of their time in the bunker, even after Dean’s attempts to veto it following the week Castiel tried to get his hair to curl like Danny Zuko. 

“I was wondering,” Dean finally continues, and Sam sits forward now, because it sounds like his brother is starting to get to his point. “I was wondering, what’s up with you and him?”

“What do you mean?” It’s worth the question to watch Dean squirm in discomfort, his green eyes dropping down to where he’s picking at the hem of his shirt. It’s almost like he wants Sam to know how nervous this makes him, which makes Sam that much more interested in why he’s asking at all.

Dean clears his throat and starts again. “I mean, you and Lucifer, y’know, are you...?” He makes an indecipherable gesture in the air and gives Sam a hopeless look before exploding in embarrassed frustration. “Come on, man, don’t make me explain it!”

Sam laughs, soft and easy, relieved to finally hear his brother ask. Their return to the bunker had meant that Lucifer and Sam could have separate rooms if they wanted, but they didn’t, and for the last two days Sam had been waiting to see if Dean would broach the subject. They’re both careful to avoid each other’s love lives, but Lucifer apparently still makes Dean suspicious enough that he’ll push that boundary.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers after a moment’s contemplation. “We work well together. We get each other. And then he had nightmares, but when I was there he didn’t, and... yeah.” He motions towards the second pillow on the bed, still buckled from the night before.

Dean nods, the corners of his mouth tugging down. “Okay, but are you and he? I mean, like, is this a thing?” Dean motions towards the pillow, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.

Sam shrugs and picks up the pillow, looking at it while he talks. “Maybe? You can’t really have an angel inside your grapefruit and not expect there to be some lasting connection, right? And it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It feels right. Scary, but right.” He’s surprised at the conviction in his own voice, now that he’s finally talking about it.

Dean’s brow furrows when Sam mentions the possession, but he nods with something like understanding, and the tightness in Sam’s jaw loosens. This is going better than he had predicted, but he’s not sure it’s over yet.

Dean points at his head and twists his hand at the wrist. “And the whole ‘Stairway to Heaven’ thing, that’s, what?”

“That wasn’t him,” Sam sighs. It had been difficult in the beginning, seeing Lucifer in the rear-view mirror of the Impala or waking up to find him sleeping in the next bed, but that had passed. “It’s like you said, y’know, this feels different. This feels real.” He rubs at the palm of his hand absent-mindedly while he talks.

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s a dude?” Dean’s voice is so quiet that at first Sam’s not sure he heard properly. Dean looks at him without lifting his chin from where it’s dropped almost to his chest.

Sam scoffs gently. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Does it bother you that Cas is a dude?”

Dean’s mouth presses to a thin line and he looks away, back towards the door. Sam gapes, unable to believe what he’s seeing.

“It bothers you that Cas is a dude? Dean, come on, it’s Cas.”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes a couple times as he searches for words. He glances around the room and rolls his shoulders. “Man, I feel like I should be cleaning my gun if we’re gonna do this. Or working on the car or something. Geez.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk,” Sam reminds him. “Look, I don’t mind talking to you about this, but what’s this about?”

“It’s about you, and Lucifer, and I don’t know. Me and Cas. What’s with us? How does this happen? We kill monsters and demons, we drink beer and watch porn. We do guy things. How did we wind up like this?” Dean’s voice goes thin with desperation, and he throws his arms wide.

Sam struggles to keep his calm as Dean’s words fill the room around him. “Did it ever occur to you that none of that has anything to do with it?” He offers. “You can kill monsters and still be into guys. The two things are completely independent of each other.”

The honest, open confusion on Dean’s face makes Sam’s throat tighten. “But we used to be into girls. We both were.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t stopped being to girls.” He fights back the eye roll as Dean tenses up again. Now is not the time to make him more uncomfortable. 

“You were gonna marry Jess,” Dean continues, pointing at Sam, who nods agreement. “How do you go from marrying Jess to, to sharing a bed with the devil?”

“Lucifer.” The correction comes automatically.

“Whatever. How does that _work_?” Dean pushes off from the desk and moves into the center of the small room, pacing two steps in each direction. “How do you go from Jess, Sarah, Ruby? Well, Ruby.”

Sam flinches as his brother rabbles up the list of names. “Dean-”

“We’ve been doing this for eight years now and I have never seen you with a dude.” There’s accusation in Dean’s tone, like he thinks that Sam is making this up, like what he’s saying is impossible.

Sam thinks for a moment before answering. “I never saw a guy I was interested in. I haven’t in a long time.”

“So you just, you switch?” Dean asks, looking down at his hands. “How do you go from-”

“From girls to guys?” Sam supplies, and Dean nods furiously, his back to his brother. He rubs at the back of his neck, looks up at the ceiling, but doesn’t turn around. 

Sam continues cautiously, needing to make Dean understand. “It just happens, Dean. I see someone I’m interested in and I pursue it, or not. I haven’t gone from one to the other. It’s _okay_ to be into both.” 

At that Dean turns. There’s a shadow over his face, but his eyes are bright and intense. It’s the look he has when he’s on the edge of a discovery.

“The world isn’t just split up into straight and gay,” Sam explains gently. “No matter who you want to have sex with, there’s a word for it.” Dean opens his mouth but Sam holds up his hand to stop him. “And as long as you’re at least two consenting adults, it’s okay. Really.”

“How do you know?”

Sam heaves an exasperated sigh. “Because I asked. I had four years surrounded by people who didn’t know where I came from, didn’t know anything about my past. I went to meetings with student groups, I read books.”

Dean gives a short laugh. “Only you would do research about who you’re allowed to-”

“That’s the thing, Dean. It’s not about allowed.” He stands up and steps across the room to face his brother. “You don’t have to fit yourself into a box like that, deny yourself what could be a really great thing for you.”

Dean considers for a moment. Color rises in his cheeks, a small smile crossing his face before it darkens again.

“So you learned all about this at Stanford? Had some big revelation?”

Sam gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I wouldn’t call it that. Brady was... a part of it.” Dean screws up his face, but Sam swallows back his comment and continues. “But that’s not where it started. It started a long time before that. It started with you.”

Dean’s mouth makes a perfect O as his eyes search back through his memory. Sam watches him, giving a moment to figure it out for himself.

“You never did anything with any of the guys,” Sam admits, a bit sheepish, “but I saw you looking.”

“Are you saying you learned this from me?” Dean sounds almost horrified, but Sam just shakes his head, holding up his hands. 

He just wants to help his brother understand. “No one learns who they’re into from anyone. That’s not how it works. But I saw you doing it, and you were my big brother. Then what Dad thought of it, well.”

They exchange a glance, and Dean gives a short, humorless laugh that leaves Sam wondering how much Dean missed out on in all the years he spent being the perfect son.

“But you did it anyway,” Sam continues, “and if you did it then it must have been okay, I figured. You remember that one time in Indiana, we ran into Tom and, and-”

“Billy. British dudes. Yeah, Dad hated them,” Dean breathes out with heat in his voice, agitated by the memory.

“Yeah, which was when I realized that what you did was something not everyone did. But I never cared. It never stopped being okay with me, either.” Sam reaches out and grabs onto his brother’s shoulders, waits until Dean is looking at him. “Dean, it’s okay. Wanting Castiel is okay.”

For a long moment neither of them speaks. They hold an entire conversation with their eyes, the corners of their mouths, and the set of their jaws. Dean softens by degrees, letting Sam’s words sink into his skin like warmth after a long day out in the snow. For his part, Sam does what he can to radiate acceptance. He and his brother have had many things they haven’t seen eye to eye on, but Sam will be the last person on the planet to deny Dean happiness because of who it is that makes him happy.

Dean breaks the silence first, coughing into his fist before he speaks. “So, men, women, you just don’t care?”

“No, I care. I loved Jess, I wanted to marry her, but that didn’t stop me from being attracted to other women, or even men. But I was committed to Jess. That’s how it works, and being a guy or a girl’s got nothing to do with that.”

Sam’s heart hurts for his brother. He’s watched Dean struggle for years with Castiel, but Sam had always assumed that it was the idea of him as an angel that kept Dean away. He had never thought that it was the idea of Castiel as a man that was frightening.

Dean’s eyes fall away from Sam’s, and Sam lets him go. Dean sways a bit where he stands, and Sam can only imagine how he must be feeling. This won’t be the only time they have this discussion, but Sam thinks that this is a good start.

Dean looks like he’s going to drown in a pool of his own uncertainty where he stands in the middle of Sam’s room.

Sam smirks and pats his brother on the shoulder. “So, you two have been sharing a room for months now. What have you been doing?”

The comment pulls Dean out of his head immediately. “Shut up.”

Sam shuts up, waiting while Dean sinks down into the rickety chair by the desk and drops his head into his hands. All the tension has gone out of his body, and now he just looks tired.

“This has been eating at you, hasn’t it?” Sam asks. He steps back towards the bed to keep himself from looming over his brother.

Dean nods without lifting his head.

“It’s really not a big deal, Dean.”

“Of course it is,” comes the the reply, muffled by Dean’s hands still covering his face. “How can it not be?”

Sam shifts his weight and sighs out a breath. “Look, there’s two people on this entire planet whose business it is. Yours, and the person you’re into. In this case, Cas.”

Dean lifts his head and looks up at his brother. “Yeah, but-”

“No buts.” Sam gives him a half-smile. “You and Cas have something special. It’s about time you started exploring it.”

“ _Duuude_ ,” Dean moans, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” Sam answers, though he’s laughing, and that makes Dean smile.

“Just don’t with the... exploring. Just because you’ve been making out with Lucifer-”

Sam cuts him off with a sharp laugh, and Dean lifts his head again, raising his eyebrows.

This time it’s Sam’s turn to flush. “I, we haven’t, yet. I don’t know if that’s how this is gonna go.”

“You share a bed with the dude and you haven’t kissed him yet?” Dean pauses, then groans. “God, this is a weird conversation.”

“You’re telling me,” Sam laughs. “And no, I don’t know that he’s interested. He’s still an angel. Cas is human in all the ways that matter now.”

“Yeah, but he looks at you like you’re freaking perfect, man. It creeps me the hell out on at least three different levels, I’m not gonna lie, but you should try, I dunno, something.” The last three words come very slowly, and Dean’s face sours as he forces them out.

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but just gives up, shaking his head and pushing his hand back through his hair.

After a moment Dean stands, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Alright, enough hanging out like two thirteen-year-old girls at a slumber party. I got an angel, you got an angel, we’re men, we’re gonna make this work. You want a beer?”

Sam smiles and nods, setting Lucifer’s pillow back in its place. “A beer would be great.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

Dean turns towards the door of Sam’s room and Sam follows after. He pauses at the threshold and looks back towards the bed. He nods and smiles to himself, tapping his fingers on the door frame before finally heading off down the hall towards the kitchen.

It’s gonna be an interesting movie night.

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from these two excellent meta discussions about the boys and their sexuality. Definitely worth a read. ([x](http://luciferious.tumblr.com/post/58664804556/)) ([x](http://luciferious.tumblr.com/post/58724357625/))


End file.
